The Ascention of Aaron
by Blloyd607502
Summary: The story of one Vampire upon the streets of Mordheim and his story. Based on my current War band in a campaign. I will update whenver I can. RAted for random swearing, Extreme Violence and anything else I put in!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer - I don't own the city of Mordheim or the old world, these are owned by Gamesworkshop. However I do own All the characters mentioned including Aaron and the hamlet of last hope.

This Fanfic is based on a game that me and some friends have done. I hope you enjoy it. Rated for lots of violence and whatever else comes into it.

"Speech"

_Thought_

Narration

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Aaron Hellraiser

The hamlet stood like a single blade of grass on a pavement. Light shone from within the many houses. This was the final hamlet before the city of Mordheim, or as it was now known the city of the dammned. It stood only 5 miles from the city entrance and well within the blast radius of the god's vengeance. It had been protected by a hill once, now after the cataclysm the hill was no more, however it had stood long enough to protect the town from the most of the blast and so the town, and more importantly, its inhabitants still survived.

The town, now known by all as "Last hope", was now set in scorched earth, nothing would grow there for years to come and so the people had turned to the new influx of scavengers to bring them everything they needed, the scavengers brought all that and more. Many were willing to pay for a comfy bed and a hot meal after a week or so within the hot and wretched city, those who weren't were dead or broke.

4 miles away from the town lay a single stone building, it brooded like a great creature, malice floated around it as it lay in wait for its next victim. The arcane symbols and tombstones around it told all who were curious that it was a crypt. No-one went there, it was haunted, or so the stores told. And the fact that the arcane symbols had been cut through with deep nail marks and the graves recently upturned confirmed it.

Deep within the bowls of this building, beyond the many ancient traps and recently broken magic guards lay a room. This room was unlike any other in the crypt, for one thing it only contained one coffin and for another it was lit. The room was lit with gently flickering torches, each walls was bare except for one which held a banner, it was coloured a deep, dirty off colour grey with a screaming bat in black embossed on it. Once it would have held majesty and fear for all who gazed upon it, but now it was a pitiful excuse for a family emblem, the banner told all that the coffin that lay in the middle of the room belonged to a member of the Hellraiser family.

At least any who remembered them; the Hellraisers had been banished from Land of Sylvania hundreds of years ago by the Count Vlad Von Carlson after falling from grace over some ancient failure. Now they were all dead or in comas due to lack of blood, except for one.

Aaron sat up in his coffin pushing the door open as he did; he climbed out and scratched his head. It was night; he could feel it in his bones. He walked over to the table where his clothes lay and started pulling them on, he looked into the mirror as he did, he had no reflection like all vampires but at least he could check if his armour was on right. He remembered his appearance from when he had last seen it anyway only 10 minutes before he had been transformed into a vampire. If he remembered properly he had thick grey hair shot though with black which he always kept back in a pony tail too keep it out of his eyes which were a deep and rich blue, the colour of the sea. His perfect skin had paled over the years of hiding from the sun and was now a pale, pale white the colour of bleached bones.

He was thin and tall, his mouth was a line drawn across his face by weeks with only minimal blood as he had travelled over the miles of land between his old haunts and his only hope, Mordheim. He picked up his old and almost partly rusted chain armour which had the family emblem on its shoulder pads, picked up his two hand axes that he had been given by a woodsman in return for help with a bear, stared at his meager equipment in the mirror, shook his head it was the best he had, _have we family truely fallen so far_? With this thought he turned towards the door.

This was the final day before he reached the city of Mordheim. Far too long the Hellraisers had been considered a dead family. Here he would seek out the pieces of Wyrdstone that would restore power to him, dignity to his family, willing people to become members of the family, of course some minions to help him and if he ever got the chance to revive his old family members. Here he would create the family reborn. "Soon, we shall rise again."

He opened the door and stepped out into the dark and quiet night, a foul smell hit his nostrils as he did. Then a gnawing sound reached his ears. He slowly turned to the noise not sure what to expect. The graveyard was empty, then slowly creatures emerged from behind the graves.

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You know the dealio. Read and Review. Or I'll send my undead allies after you Mwhahaha 


	2. Chapter 2

Pwhew Can somebody please tell their freinds that this exists? I mean I don't mind when you don't reveiw (that much) but its kinda' a bummer when you story has been up for a week and It got 4 hits! Please. Tell you freinds. I'm so lonely :'-(

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Ghouls

They wore the remains of clothes, ranging from loincloths to burlap sacks. They had large, grey eyes with silts for pupils, their skin was blotchy, covered in open wounds and scabs, callused and their muscles twisted like knotted rope. They hunched over, their arms trailing on the floor, their hands were tipped with great, long and dirt crusted claws with dried blood under them in which some of them held splinters of bone and haunches of meat. Their faces were pulled into leers of curiosity and hunger.

These were ghouls, they had once been human, generations ago now they were twisted and despised by true humans. Their ancestors had been cannibals in times of famine and desperation. They had been driven away from the cities for their crimes and been driven mad by their lust for human flesh as were their sons and daughters, these pitiful creatures.

Aaron was surprised that they existed this far south in the supposedly "Civilised" world. This was obviously a clan of the creatures, a bunch of families that had banded together to take down better armed people for greater rewards. If Aaron had still been alive then he would be in trouble but luckily nothing would try to eat a vampire, not even such a mad and evil group of creatures as these.

There was chattering amongst the group for a few seconds as, Aaron guessed, they tried to work out what to do with him. Then one ghoul walked forward. He was less hunched over, more proud in his walk and wore an old helmet crookedly and various pieces of armour. It was obviously the head of the Clan.

The ghoul walked towards him slowly, like a mouse approaching a creature it hadn't seen before and wondering if it were dangerous. It touched his armour for a second then slowly opened its mouth as if to be sick. It rolled its jaw and gnashed its teeth as it tried to say something, then it made a noise almost like a mix of a groan and a scream. It closed its mouth for a second, looking surprised at the noise it had managed to make then Aaron took over.

"What your name?" he said. The ghoul jumped back quickly and then moved forwards again. It looked confused for a second then a look of recognition crossed its face and it slowly said in a croaky voice "Grim." It looked surprised again and pointed at itself with a single claw "Grim. Grim. Grim!" it repeated over and over obviously proud.

"Right. Grim, do you understand me?" Grim slowly nodded. "Okay. How would you and your friends like to work for me. I'm going to Mordheim." He pointed to the city "Lots of Bodies, lots of food, come with me."

Grim looked at him for a second then turned to the group. They slowly moved together and huddled. A few 'words' were exchanged in their own language and then Grim stepped forward again. He nodded slowly, then another quickly stepped forward and started to chatter at him incessantly, his tone was one of disgust, it didn't agree with the decision. He lurched quickly up to Aaron and swiped with a handful of great, dirty claws.

Aaron reacted instantly, one moment he was standing calmly the next one of his axes was up and the creatures hand was missing. Then another second and his teeth were in the complainers neck and he was drawing blood. A surge of energy and warmth slowly flowed into him as he enjoyed his meal. He pulled away as the blood supply dried out and wiped his mouth with a chain mail sleeve. The others looked at him for a second then Grim pointed at the corpse inquisitively. Aaron took a second to realise he was asking if he was going to finish it, then he said "Help yourself." Then added to himself "The first of many."

The ghouls were on it quickly, ripping and tearing the flesh in a frenzy to get enough food for their bellies. Aaron waited for a few minutes after they finished their meal, then he called Grim over. The creature walked over and raised its hand to its head in an terrible attempt at a salute.

"Get send some of your minions to get my coffin and my Banner" he said pointing a thumb at the tomb behind him "As soon as you have done that we leave for Mordheim." This was met by raucous groans and squeals from the small horde of twenty.

Aaron stood in his place. So this is where his army started. He smiled. Not too bad considering it was his first day and he wasn't even inside the city yet. Then the smile faded as he remembered what he had heard in 'the last stand' the tavern in the Hamlet. The witch hunters had taken the main gate into the city under their control. If they saw him and his new allies they would be strung up. Still, night was his cloak and he had enough speed to pull his plan off with some luck.

The journey to the gate took a few hours. It was quickened by the fact he no longer had to carry his own coffin as he had to over the last hundred miles of land. He thought over his families past as they walked slowly to marching beat that Grim was setting on his helmet with a bone.

They had been very influential in their time, but slowly then the clan leader of the time known as "Flaming Y" for his red hair despite being dead for so many years had done something. Aaron didn't know what, no-one did but he had never came back from the Counts castle where he had been invited for a drink on night. On of the friends the family had back then who had later turned against them as they fell had told them that as Y knelt, Von Carlson had simply drawn his sword and sliced off his head for no apparent reason.

Without its head the clan had slowly been dying for centuries. No new head had been elected as there had been too many things to deal with, the exile, the assassination attempts, over time the family had simply degraded and that was the time Aaron had left. Many years later Aaron was to hear of a 'accidental' fire that had killed all who remained in their family castle and then slowly over the years the others had been killed, one by one. The only reason Aaron had dodged being killed was because the 'Count' had simply forgotten that he existed so no one had been sent. He slowly came to a conclusion. Y must have done something to fall so far from grace. He suddenly knew what he was going to call his group. 'Flaming Y's folly' was to be their name. Aaron smiled, it was a good name.

Then they reached the street. It was the only avenue to the main gate. Aaron looked up for the first time and something caught in his throat. He was a vampire he drank blood for to keep himself alive and this sickened even him. He had heard of the witch hunters zealots ways but this was simply cruel. The entire avenue was lines with cages each lined with spikes on the inside. Inside each one was a skeleton and into each head was a word branded so deep into the skin when the unfortunate had been alive that it still remained on the skeleton. He read one "Heretic", the next "Witch" and another "Possessed" he walked along the boulevard of bones watching as the bones slowly fleshed out as the corpses got younger and younger until they were alive, pitifully starved but alive. Truly there was nothing more dangerous than a person who believes that Sigmar is behind them he though. He turned away and looked to the east as something caught his eye and saw a troop of Witch hunters, resplendent in their holy marked armour. The moon glinting off their amour, to his eyes, as brightly as the sun.

There were about five of them, each wearing the same set of strong flexible leather armour that all witch hunters wore, banded leather padded with studs on the surface to strengthen it, each held the symbol of Sigmar the sacred two tailed comet which had annihilated the city only a few months ago. Each one held a torch, to purge through flame, a spear and wore a helmet, covering their entire faces.

They were crowded around something or someone, Aarons mind flashed back to the hanging corpses, for a second he hesitated then he started to walk briskly towards the men. They were still a mile or so from the gate, he could afford to take a look at which unfortunate wretch had been caught this time. The ghouls followed for a second then he raised a hand to stop them, if the witch hunters saw them, then they would raise the alarm, he was going to investigate this on his own.


End file.
